


Twisted Truths

by magestyfandoms



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Drug Use, Gang Rape, Gang Violence, GangAU, Hand Jobs, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Rape/Non-con, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Top Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24637927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magestyfandoms/pseuds/magestyfandoms
Summary: Keith. A young adult trying to survive the streets of Altea.Lance. Naive and gullible to the dangers of this new city.Their paths cross on unfortunate terms, but will they thrive together happily in this harsh world? Or will pain, secrets, and dangers overtake and consume them both.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 83
Collections: Drabbles





	1. Bitter Air

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is my first fic on Ao3 and I'm super excited to share it with yall. This is centered majorily around Klance and I may incoorporate other relationships as well.
> 
> I've proofread and edited the chapter though there may still be some mistakes. Go ahead and point them out I don't mind.
> 
> It would be highly appreciated if you guys share/ comment/ or kudos this work!
> 
> -Magesty

...  
Keith  
...  
His worn-out work boots stomped against the dark city pavement. His hands shoved in his pockets to hide from the December air. His nose already a light shade of pink, and his pitch-black hair blown messily on his head. He wore a dark red flannel and gray jeans that were low on his hips. The sky was dark, and the street lights shone brightly. Keith breathed out and let his mind wander as he tread the long walk home.

The meeting was like any other meeting. Money. Drug movements. Defending territories. Other gang activity. The usual topics covered at these gatherings. Voltron, the notorious gang from the Northside of Altea. A small city with high crime rates and dangerous men and women residents. The southside was home to Voltrons greatest rival—the Galra. The difference between the two was that the Galra was disorganized and messy. They were at fault for most of the assaults and sexual harassment crimes in the city. They’d harass lone pedestrians at the late hours of the night, hoping to crave their sadistic hunger.

Voltron’s main concern was their drug distribution. They kept to themselves, under the radar, never hurting the innocent. The only people who faced their wrath were the gals members and associates, or those who meddled with their business.

All of the gang activity wasn’t unheard of to Keith. He’d spent the last 13 years of his life in Altea, in and out of group homes and foster homes. His father passed away when he was 10, and his mother never bothered to stick around. He didn’t particularly consider himself a “gangster” though. Mainly just a young adult scrapping around for some good money.

Keith was just a simple recruit for Voltron. No unique title just had one job that he carried out like most of the members. Distribution is what he’d been assigned to. He took a stash, sold, and gained a small percentage of the earnings, returning the rest to the leader, Coran. 

Coran ran the whole show. Distributed drugs, collected money, managed his workers, he did it all—a wise man, reaching his late 50s. No matter the occasion, he always looked sharp. Consistently wearing a crisp suit in a variety of colors. His signature fiery red hair slicked back, making him take on a harsher look. He was necessarily a violent man, but there was no mistake that he meant business. 

His second in command was his niece Allura. She handled contacts between suppliers and their shipments as well as drug values. Being the mother of the group, she was caring, compassionate, and strict, and severe. Her skin was dark and smooth, a perfect contrast to her silver dyed hair. Her eyes were a soft blue, they always gave a clue to what she felt.

Shiro, the brawns in the gang. He was a distributor, as well as a guardsman. He kept watch during shipment deals and patrol missions to find suspicious activity in their territories. His appearance was perfectly fit for his role. Tall and sturdy, with broad shoulders and thick muscle pulling tight under his skin. Not many challenged him knowing most efforts were futile. He was like a brother to Keith, training him in combat and self-defense when he was first recruited.

The genius behind the organization was Pidge. She totaled the percentages of each member’s earnings, measured out the servings of merchandise, as well as communications between affiliated gangs. Without her, the business side of the operation would crumble. She looked like a young teenager, short and skinny. Her brown hair was cut and fell to her chin. She sported thinly framed glasses that shielded her striking green analytical eyes.

Hunk was another guardsmen as well as an in-home supplier. Meaning he mixed, cultivated, and produced homemade merchandise. He was a warm man who you wouldn’t strike as the violent type—his body and stature, much like a big teddy bear. The Samoan wasn’t a harmful person, though when needed, he could turn ugly.

No one but Allura worked there by choice. Their labor was the small price to pay for Coran’s kindness. After he found a dealer’s stash, unknowingly sold it, and used all of the money to buy himself a motorcycle and pay off his rent, he came to figure out he owed the leader of a deadly gang in Altea. Returning the bike would’ve helped him scrape up less than half of what he owed, so they compromised. Keith would work for the money he spent, as well as become a dealer. Sure, Keith was skeptical at first, but he didn’t have many options. It paid well, and he would gain protection from the murderous streets of Altea.

Keith turned a corner, now closer to his apartment. He looked around, observing the different cracks in the sidewalk, fraying out in every which way. The lingering smell of smoke attacked his nose, such a familiar yet nauseating aroma. His warm breath met with the sharp chilly air creating a thick fog in front of his lips. Still entranced with the cracks and chips in the cement, the pair of feet peeking out the next alley almost went unnoticed. His eyebrows drew together tensely as he picked up his pace towards the fishnet covered feet. He drew in a sharp breath, pausing at the scene before him. 

A thin tan boy, who looked like he had been out clubbing for the night, was unconscious and thrown to the side of the alleyway. The pale man knelt down quickly and scanned the other for injuries. His eyes darted from every part of the body in front of him. A large hole in his tights peeked through from the bottom of his skirt, causing Keith’s stomach to drop. The black leather skirt was stretched and twisted awkwardly around the boy. Keith cursed under his breath and turned him over, scared for what else he would find. The baby blue sweater engulfing his small frame was stained and dirty, his neck had dark marks scattered around not only my strange men’s lips but also their hands. His thighs sported the same markings. It painted a clear picture in Keith’s mind of what had happened. 

He gently pressed two fingers to his bruised neck, feeling a faint pulse. He sighed thankfully and surveyed his options. Call the police, risk being accused of the heinous acts to this stranger. Leave him there, risk someone else finding him with not so good intentions. Or take him home, risks are low to none.

His boots stomped up the brick stairs that led to the door of the apartment complex. His muscles strained slightly as he held the frail boy to his chest. He walked in and up a few flights, by the time he reached the top he was panting heavily. Struggling a bit, he reached into his jean’s pocket in search of his keys. Once the cold metal was in his palm, he hurriedly unlocked the door, stepping into the warmth of his living room. 

Instantly he went to his bedroom and placed the boy down onto his unmade bed. He stood there for a moment, looking at his soft features. He was absolutely stunning. Dark freckles scattered across his bronze skin, his long brown lashes laid flush against his rounded cheekbones. He looked so peaceful, even after what he had gone through. His hand gently nudged back a piece of the short brown hair falling on his forehead.

He had no idea what to do. Calling Shiro seemed like a good idea until he realized he was on duty. Hunk would be asleep as of now. Pidge would be livid if he called at three in the morning talking about a random boy found on the street. Allura or Coran were both out of the question since it had nothing to do with work-related matters.

Breathing deeply, he sighed as his thoughts shouted at him. Why did he get himself into this mess? The poor kid is going to freak out, seeing himself in this strange place. Keith stepped towards his dresser and grabbed a clean shirt and shorts. Judging by the unconscious boy’s frame, they were too big.

Keith’s knee rested itself on the edge of the bed, and his body bowed toward the sleeping boy. He took hold of his arms, raising them to give access to his sweater. The soft fabric slipped up the boy’s torso with ease. 

Unsure as to why he was so taken aback, Keith’s eyes widened. The tan skin was bruised and scratched harshly, similar to the neck and thighs. The raven-haired boy felt his blood boil but continued on with the rest. Quickly, he grabbed his grey sleep shirt and pulled it over the stranger’s head. As he guessed before, it was too large, but it would have to do. His hands hovered over the skirt. Red crept across his pale cheeks. It felt wrong taking off this guy’s clothes, but it too felt wrong to leave him like this. He shimmied the rest of the clothing off, averting his eyes to give some privacy to the other. 

As soon as he finished dressing, the other Keith tucked him in. He made his way out of the room to the living room, grabbing a blanket. Keith kicked off his boots, and lazily tossed his shirt along with them. The couch welcomed his weight as he sunk deeper into the soft fabric. 

Who is he? Keith’s eyes closed as his mind spun with questions. There was no ID revealing anything about the other. The dark boy looked to be his own age, though, maybe younger. Somewhere between 20 and 23? Keith hoped his estimation was correct, for reasons unknown to him. Who did this to him? The jawbones under his skin pulled tight with anger; whoever it was, they’d wish they were dead.

…  
Lance  
…

A dull ring sounded in Lance’s ears, dragging him out of his sleep. He opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to his surroundings. His eyes peered around calmly for a moment before realizing he wasn’t home. He silently cursed himself, thinking that he had a one night stand or something of the sort. The Cuban sat up leisurely, feeling like he had been hit with a bag of bricks. His head throbbed due to the excessive drinking from the night before. He scooted to the edge of the bed, and sharp ache shot through his lower back and up his spine. He whimpered, placing a hand there. 

“You’re such a pretty little doll, aren’t you?”

Lance sucked in a breath and flinched, remembering one of the deep voices that haunted him the night before. He quickly stood, pushing away his body’s painful sting. The clothes that sat loosely on him moments ago were thrown harshly to the side. Silent cries erupted from his chapped lips as he faintly remembered the strange men towering over him just hours before. At the foot of the bed were his clothes folded neatly in a pile. He threw them on hastily and looked around a little more. This wasn’t the same room as last night. This one looks like an actual bedroom, in contrast to the disgusting motel room he was taken to. 

“You’re awake.”

The smaller boy turned on his heel and looked towards the now open doorway where a tall guy stood. Lance trembled slightly and backed away. His eyes darted around the room in search of anything that could suffice as a weapon. Nothing was within arms reach, and based on the other male, he would quickly be overpowered. 

Lance studied the man’s face. Nothing about him seemed familiar. His voice wasn’t like the others, his body wasn’t one of the many he saw towering above him hours prior. The guy’s sharp jaw tensed under his pale skin, as Lance evaluated him. His features were all very sharp and angled, he looked partially of Asian descent. The long strands of black hair framed his face, though resembling a more modern take on a mullet. Lance couldn’t deny the man was extraordinarily handsome, but his short-lived lust soon gave way to confusion and fear. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Two hands were raised as if he had surrendered. “I found you lying in an alley on my way home, and I took you to my place.” His voice was even as well as gentle—no doubt an effort to calm Lance.

Lance’s shoulders dropped and he untensed. “What time is it?” He whispered quietly as he looked at the dark brown hardwood flooring beneath him.

The pale man looked at his wrist and back to him. “6:10 am.” The only response Lance could muster was a nod. “I can give you a ride home. Or we could go to the police and report whatever happened last night-“

“How much do you know about what happened?” Lance asked cautiously. He crossed his arms, and he looked at the other male with a skeptical look.

The other male paused, “Nothing more than assumptions.” he stated quietly. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up to meet Lance’s blue eyes. 

Lance dropped his arms and cleared his throat. “Was it really obvious?” He asked, his voice wavering. 

The man hesitated before sighing, “Not from first glance, but your neck and legs were enough for me to guess.” He said uncomfortably. Lance only nodded. 

“You didn’t happen to see a handbag on me when I was found, did you?” Lance picked at the hem of his sweater averting the other’s stare.

“No, you had nothing with you. I’d be happy to take you home, and you can use my phone to make any calls if you want.” He said cautiously, before leading him out of the room. “Also, what’s your name?”

“The name’s Lance.” He mumbled, following behind him. He took quick glances around seeing the homey set up. The kitchen and living room shared the same space, and there seemed to only be the room he’d slept in. “And yours?”

“Keith.” He told him simply. Lance noticed him grab a set of keys before walking out of the apartment. 

The car ride to Lance’s apartment was quiet. Too quiet for lances liking. “Do you mind if I call my sister?” After a few moments, Keith found his phone and handed it over to Lance, followed by an ‘of course.’

He dialed the number he had memorized years ago and pressed the phone to his ear. After the first few rings, the tired voice of his sister on the other line echoed. “Hello?”

“Hey, Ronnie…” he whispered gently into the receiver. He already knew she was going to be pissed.

“¡Cabrón! You scared me half to death! You said you would call me when you got home, Lance! What the hell?! Not even a goddamn text?!” Lance flinched at his sister’s yelling. 

“I know, ¡Lo siento! I was drained last night, and it slipped my mind.” He said softly. He wasn’t going to tell his already concerned sister of what really happened that night. “I’m okay, don’t worry. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Who’s phone is this?! Why is your phone off?!” She questioned accusingly. Lance sighed and quickly ended the call, not in the mood to spew more lies.

“She seems like she really cares about you,” Keith said with a hum before he quickly looked at Lance. “Oh, sorry, that was rude to listen in like that.”

Lance waved him off, “It’s alright. That was my sister, Veronica. I just moved to the states from Cuba a few weeks ago, and she is still very protective of me. She almost had a heart attack after telling her I was going out for a night of clubbing.” He chuckled darkly, “Her feelings about it were right, weren’t they?” He said quietly.

Keith looked ahead at the road and kept quiet. Lance just looked back out the window, soaking in the awkward silence between the two strangers. 

Keith glanced at him. “You’re English is pretty good. I’m only assuming that it isn’t your first language?” He said, glancing towards Lance, who now stared straight ahead at the road.

“Thank you, and yes, you’re right. My father was from the states, and my mother was from Cuba. They met in Havana, began dating, had my sister Veronica, and then they permanently moved in together in Cuba.” Lance paused for a moment. “They had my other five siblings then me. They taught us all both English and Spanish.”

Keith listened as the other spoke. Lance began talking about small things like his family, and soon they were parked in front of Lance’s apartment.

Lance stopped with his ongoing talking, and his cheeks began to tint with a small blush, “Sorry for talking your ears off.” 

Keith shook his head, “Don’t worry, I enjoyed listening. Are you feeling alright though, maybe you should get checked rather than going back to your place immediately.” He suggested, concern laced in his voice.

Lance looked down, “I’m fine.” Lance reached for the handle to his door. “I have work anyways, so it wouldn’t be ideal.” His bright blue eyes looked at the other’s dark violet eyes. “I never said thank you...You could’ve left me there on the street, but you chose to help me.” He said quietly.

“No need to thank me, I did what any decent human would.” He said reassuringly. “Listen. You should stay away from that part of town. There are a lot of sickos around there.”

Lance nodded and opened the door, “Will do. Thanks again, Keith.” He said as he slowly got up and out of the car. It was a black lowrider, and it looked pretty fancy. Strangely, he pictured Keith riding a cool motorcycle of some sort.

Lance slowly walked up the stairs to his apartment, biting down on his lip as sharp pains stabbed through his lower body.

Finally, he made it to his door and reached behind a small pot on the ground. As expected, he found his spare key. He swiftly unlocked the door to his home and walked in. He leaned back on the door, closing it. He felt his legs shake as he lowered himself to the ground. Warm tears collected in the Cuban’s eyes, spilling over and running down his cheeks. The sobs rocked through his body as he slowly undressed. 

“Do you like that?”

“What a dirty whore.”

“How can you dress up like that and not expect this.”

“Can you take two of us?”

Lance cried hard as he stood and walked to the bathroom. He turned the shower on and tried to calm his thoughts. His head spun, imagery, and words from the incident played on repeat in his mind. He steadily stepped into his shower, the warm water cascading over him. 

The soap suds collected across his red chaffed skin. But he continued to scrub, wishing any trace of last night would vanish as the colored water below him collected and swirled around the drain.


	2. Haunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad to see I got some readers so soon! Well I honestly don't have an update schedule, but I will update frequently.
> 
> If you got any questions feel free to ask. I do try to make everything clear and understandable, but I do make mistakes sometimes.
> 
> So, because of all the research I do for the drug terminology and measurements and all that I keep getting ads on my Pandora for like rehab centers...So my computer thinks I'm a drug addict. Love thatttt.
> 
> -Magesty

...  
Keith  
…

The rest of the morning was dark, and the gray sky set a dreary mood for the remainder of the day. Clouds decorated the air, and small snowflakes fell down, illuminating the streets and sidewalks with bright white powder. 

After dropping Lance off, he drove Shiro’s car back to the apartment. Shiro lived with his boyfriend Matt, a few floors up, and allowed Keith to use his vehicle in an emergency. He stepped out and felt his phone vibrate against his thigh. Swiftly, he retrieved it from the pocket and noticed a set of unknown numbers.

“Hello?” Keith questioned in a clipped tone, assuming it was most likely a scam call.

“Hey, man! My buddy Nyma suggested I give you a call. Sounds like you got the goods…” a raspy voice bellowed on the other end of the receiver. Keith reached over to his glove compartment opening it to reveal a few small ziplocs with a sigh. Most carried a variety of pills xans, addies, molly, roofies, subs. He even had Voltron’s specialty, ‘Black.’

Hunk created Black through experimental mixing combining cocaine, molly, and LSD into a small black pill. It gave users an entirely different kind of high. A high that they couldn’t even achieve from bumping 8 lines of coke. It was an addict’s dream, though overdoses were frequently heard of while taking them.

The rest of the bags held a few grams of coke, meth, and dope.

“Send me the location and time.” Keith sighed before hanging up. His hands worked quickly, transferring his stash to his jacket’s inner pockets before closing the glove compartment.

The ding on his phone called his attention once again. The bright notification stated the meetup destination, and with a huff, he exited the car and began his long walk.

Keith’s pace was much like the night before. Casual and slow, in efforts to not bring attention to himself. The weather is getting colder, the heating bill will be more this month, he thought. 

Suddenly, a pair of eyes popped into his mind. Beautiful blue irises holding so much curiosity, and wonder. Now stained with pain and sorrow. Keith wondered if it was the right thing to leave him alone. Would he be okay? Would Lance report the incident and get justice for himself? And the biggest question of all, why did he care so much? 

His violet eyes wandered to his phone screen following the directions before looking ahead to see where this address led to. His stomach dropped, noticing where he was heading. Lance’s apartment building stood tall between two other brick buildings. Keith’s mind screamed to turn the other way. Running into the man from earlier in the middle of a drug transaction was not what he wanted his day to consist of. 

He had stopped abruptly and leaned against the brick to the building. His heart raced with anxiety as he assessed his surroundings. Luckily, the only camera nearby was inside the building’s front entrance. His fist clenched his jacket and pulled it tighter around himself to block out the unforgiving cold. 

Heavy footsteps sounded down the stairs from the building, beside where Keith stood. Silent prayers came from his mouth, hoping it wasn’t the beautiful boy from before. 

The thought of the blue-eyed male knowing that he was a drug dealer, made him want to hide under a rock and never come out. Though Keith wasn’t always the type to give a fuck about others’ opinions, he was concerned about what Lance’s thoughts were on the matter.

“Red?” The scratchy voice from before sounded behind the pale boy. Keith turned quickly, and his shoulders dropped from their tense position, realizing it wasn’t Lance.. ‘Red’ was a nickname given to him by Coran to be used with his customers. It was an extra precaution to prevent moles from uncovering his identity.

“That’s me. I got the usual plus the specialty black,” Keith stated in his usual uninterested tone. “Twenty for a molly, gram of coke: fifty-five, five for a xan, and Eighty-five for the black.” He listed off the top sellers calmly over the howling winds that challenged his voice. 

The man in front of him fidgeted, unsure of what to choose. A first time user probably. He had pale green eyes and dirty blonde hair that curled into ringlets under his backward snapback. He seemed to be in his mid-twenties, his face still rounded with his youthfulness.

Although Keith was a dealer, he stayed reasonably clean. Never popped pills, didn’t shoot up, and unquestioningly didn’t snort anything. He limited his use to a blunt or joint every now and then.

“Hey man, you got to hurry up, you know how sneaky these feds are. They’ll be showin’ up from behind a fucking bush holding up their guns.” Keith quipped getting impatient, he mostly didn’t want to stay here any longer and knew Lance was possibly a few feet above him. 

The other man shrunk back a bit, “I’ll take the Black.” A rough, calloused hand brought forward a thick wad of green from his pocket. He counted it quickly before hiding it in a pocket inside his jacket. He reached a hand out the ziploc tucked between his thumb and palm. Once he shook hands, he deftly passed it over to the other man. 

Keith turned on his heel and walked back down the broken sidewalk. The snow fell on him in flurries, dusting his hair with white specks. The bright lamplights shone a light on his path home.

…  
Lance  
…

The next few days came and went, excruciatingly slow for Lance. His routine turned from getting up early to do yoga, job search, and party late at night to lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, as a telenovela played drearily in the background. 

The same morning Keith dropped him off at home, he headed to the police station to file a report. Unfortunately, with the lack of CCTV footage in the area and no DNA evidence found on Lance’s body, the case was mostly a lost cause.

It strangely didn’t affect Lance much when he heard the words, “The case is closed.” The only reaction he had was a curt nod before he stood to leave the building.

Since then, he had turned into a hermit. Still haunted by the voices and the ghost of their touches. Sleeping was out of the question due to the recurring nightmares. So he resorted to binging his telenovelas and shoveling globs of ice cream into his mouth.

A week later, he finally found the motivation to get up and collect himself, venturing out his front door. His credit card, bus pass, and phone had all been replaced through warranties and had been delivered throughout the week as well. 

As he stepped out the building, his eyes watered as the cold air pushing against him. He trembled, and his teeth chattered. The cold wasn’t something his body was used to. The memory of warm relaxing breezes he had felt back at home was almost enough to warm him then. How the scorching sun left a nearly permanent tan on him made Lance smile. The differences between his home and here kept piling higher and higher. Moving from Havana, Cuba to Altea, New York seemed like the opportunity of a lifetime. The options were endless here, it seemed like a dream. Though quickly, the reality seemed to slap him in the face. 

Gangs ruled the streets, the crime rates were ridiculous, and the number of homeless addicts posted on every street corner scared Lance. He had a happy, peaceful upbringing that shielded him from the dangers of the world. Now those dangers were right at his doorstep. 

Lance never understood the allure of drugs. The cons infinitely outweighed the pros, in his opinion. 

A few minutes of fast-paced walking brought the cold boy to the bus stop. His head turned, studying the streets and the pedestrians walking along with them.

A mother was strolling her bundled up baby, on a crosswalk. Her eyes looked tired and puffy, likely from a lack of sleep. A short man passed her, yelling on his phone, hurrying across the street. Lance wondered what kind of news the man received to be so angry.

Exhaust fumes assaulted his nose as the bus pulled to a screeching stop. Lance carefully stepped onto the elevated platform before walking to the back of the bus. Sitting at an empty seat, he stared out the window and sighed quietly. 

Buildings passed quickly as they drove, the colors melting together in a blur. Around Lance stood several passengers, some wearing bulky coats, others choosing to simply wear a sweater. One man stood out against the rest, his back faced Lance, but his dark hair reminded the Cuban of Keith. As the bus halted to a stop, the man stepped off and went about his day. Lance sighed, unsure as to why he was disappointed to find out it wasn’t who he thought. 

After a few more stops, Lance stood up, walking down the steps and onto the sidewalk. Ahead of him was a quaint pub with a brick exterior along with a whitewashed sign labeled: Smythe’s Bar. Lance exhaled calmly, stepping forward towards the glass window. Dirt coated the glass, seemingly it had been ages since it was cleaned. Inside, an older gentleman stood behind the counter, a rag in hand cleaning the granite surface unaware of Lance’s curious gaze.

With quick feet, Lance entered the oddly empty pub, his presence made known by the small wind chime hanging overhead. The bartender looked up, startled by Lance’s appearance. 

His orange hair pulled back looked odd, though seemed to fit this man well, Lance thought. To match was a well-kept mustache that decorated his upper lip. His dark gray eyes had a wise yet cunning look to them, making the tan boy intimidated. The bartender grinned, “Well, hello there, what can I do for ya?” 

Relief oddly flowed through him as he heard the smooth voice. He carried a rich accent, it’s origin unknown. Lance mirrored the other’s smile, “Hello, any positions available for hire?” He said sheepishly. 

“Lucky for you, I could use the help behind the bar.” As he spoke, he gestured lazily to the shelf of alcohol bottles. “You do need to study our menu and drink mixtures, though,” he stated.

“And how much would I be making? Is it weekly or every two weeks?”

“By weekly, you get four forty-five, including the tips you make.” His back turned toward lance as he poured a glass of water. 

Lance accepted the cold glass and drank the chilling water, “That would be perfect, sir. My name is Lance. And yours is…?” He extended a hand politely.

“Coran.” He raised a thin but strong arm, Lance noticed from the man’s grip. “I think you’re going to be a great fit here.” 

...  
Keith  
...

Keith pushed open the dark wooden door to the bar, “Hey Coran.” 

He noticed the empty space as he knelt down to place his helmet by the door. “Coran?”

As he took a seat at a stool against the bar top, he blew warm air into the palms of his hands, expelling the cold. Suddenly he heard laughter from the back as Coran spouted his typical corny jokes. Keith’s eyes fixed onto the back door, waiting for his boss.

He wasn’t prepared for who was laughing beside Coran. Those heavenly blue eyes danced with humor, so different from what they showed days ago. His smile radiated, his straight white teeth gleaming behind his full pink lips.

“Lance…?” Keith stood slowly. Recognition flashed over Lance’s face, and he began to walk towards the taller man.

“Keith. It’s nice to see you again.” He beamed. 

“Same to you, glad you are doing alright.” He agreed. He peered past Lance to Coran, “I was just stopping by, to talk to Coran real quick.” In return, Coran nodded knowingly. “But I’m glad we crossed paths again, you were on my mind.”

Lance’s eyes widened a fraction, and his cheeks turned a shade darker. “Oh?”

“Sorry that came off weird, I meant I was worried about how you were doing.” Keith brushed a hand through his messy black hair awkwardly.

“Well that’s really sweet of you.” The brunette looked at him. His gaze then shifted to the countertop, where a slip of paper brushed his hand. Coran then passed him the pen from his apron, “Oh right,” he wrote his number on the paper sliding it back to the bartender, “I can start working whenever you need-”

“You’re working for Coran?” Keith interrupted, feeling his heart skip a few beats. The last thing Lance needed was a target on his back for being affiliated with Voltron. “Sorry...but are you working for Coran now?” his words were uneven and concerned.

Confused, Lance nodded,” Yeah, he needs another bartender, and I’m in need of a job, so I’ll be working here...” He raised a brow, “Will that be a problem?”

Keith shook his head as his worries vanished. Even if he barely knew him, he could tell it was a lifestyle Lance shouldn’t have. “No it won’t be a problem. I come here quite often, I guess I’ll be seeing more of you around, huh?”

Lance looked a bit skeptical but nodded, “Yeah I guess you will.” His eyes followed Keith’s movements seeing him prepare to leave. 

Keith walked to the door, grabbing his helmet, “See ya.” As he left, his chest filled with warmth. He would get to see more of the beautiful Cuban boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who came for the delicious smut, don't grow too impatient! It will be here soon. But just as a warning I will be writing the rape scene to begin with so buckle up for this emotional roller coaster.


	3. Strictly Platonic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep commenting y'all, love to hear from you guys!
> 
> Point out any mistakes please!

…  
Keith  
…

The winter air only got harsher, as January approached. Keith was not a fan of the cold, he much rather deal with cool rainy days. 

With Lance working at the pub, Keith had yet another reason to go there frequently. He visited every other day, requesting a gin and tonic religiously. He found that everytime he visited he talked nonstop with the handsome bartender. By the time their conversation died, it was always closing, and like always parted with an awkward smile and nod.

In the past month Keith learned that Lance had a big family. His eldest sister Veronica was a single mother to her daughter Alexia, second was his brother Armando who had twin sons, Ruby and Ryan, with his fiance Ana, then there was Miguel who was married to his wife Roxanna who happened to be expecting, the twins Diana and Sonya who didn't have any children or spouses, and lastly Lance. The thin man always talked about them, sharing funny stories. Keith found himself laughing at most of them enjoying the conversations.

Growing up in foster homes throughout his teen years, caused a lonely feeling in Keith’s heart. He lost the want for a family, settling to live life with no one but himself. Yet strangely the more he heard of Lance’s experiences, the lonely feeling slowly crept away and filled with a new one, adoraton.

This night was like any other. Random conversation points were exchanged between the two until a new customer found its way to a stool requesting a drink.

“So Keith, what do you do for work?” Lance said loud enough for Keith to hear down the bar. Keith, caught off guard, paled.

The usual lies he spouted were mostly random from, “I’m a mechanic.” to a “I’m a chauffeur.” Unsure as to why he felt so guilty lying to him he felt his palms grow clammy.  
“I’m a salesman.” Going into the technicalities of things he wasn’t lying. He did sell things. Drugs more specifically, but that was irrelevant.

“Fancy.” He dried his hands on the towel handing off his shoulder, “What’s your schedule like? You seem to be here quite often.” Lance had a habit of speaking with his hands. Whether it be a small flip of his wrist or grand gestures, resembling a bird trying to take off. Lance’s hand twirled as he inquired.

“Well my job is complicated,” he looked around to check his surroundings for Coran, “it has a pretty lenient schedule I work whenever I’m called in. It does get kind of frustrating when I have plans to cancel.” He shrugged making it seem like the average job.

Lance looked at him, his eyes intense for a moment before turning soft. “Well why don’t we make plans? Movie and dinner possibly?“ Lance questioned casually but his cheeks were tinted a light pink.

Keith smiled at that, “Sounds like you’re asking me out.”

“What?! I meant as friends! I wouldn’t ask you out without even knowing if you’re into guys.” He assured frantically. Keith thought it was adorable how flustered he became at his simple statement.

“I’m gay.” He stood drawing a twenty from his wallet. Using the pen also in his pocket he scrawled a line of numbers across the napkin below his drink. “Here’s my tip and yeah I’d like to hang. Just as friends of course.” He smirked, sliding his glass to the opposite edge of the counter. “Tomorrow good?”

“Y-yeah I’m off all day.” The other male stumbled over his words, as he mixed a drink for a customer.   
Keith breathed a laugh as he reached down for his helmet. He enjoyed the flustered look Lance wore, mentally congratulating himself for being the cause of it. 

“I’ll stop by your place around 6 cool?” 

Lance smiled widely and nodded. “Cool.”

…

Keith stood tall in front of his bathroom mirror. His reflection staring straight back at him with analytical eyes. A grey short-sleeve clung to his torso, accompanied by a pair of ripped black jeans. For what seemed like the hundredth time that evening, he ran a hand over his chest, smoothing the material. 

It wasn’t a date Keith reminded himself, though his chest felt tight with anticipation and anxiousness. Did he look too casual? Did he need to change again? What if he was overdressed? With a huff, Keith grabbed the hair tie on his wrist and hastily pulled his hair back into a ponytail.

He reached for his phone on the counter, seeing it was half-past five. A notification drew a vibration from the phone in his hands, causing Keith to smile to himself.

‘Ready and waiting for you.’

The raven-haired boy chuckled before typing a quick response. Grabbing his black jacket, he stepped towards his front door pausing at the key holder. This wasn’t exactly an emergency, so Shiro would rip him a new one for taking the car, but he wasn’t sure if he could handle Lance in such close proximity. He bent down, grabbing his helmet and keys before striding through his doorway. 

The ride there passed quickly as Keith let himself get lost in thought. He thought of Lance, how he managed to keep an upbeat mood despite what he had gone through. That smile never left his face, and his airy laughter always echoed behind his words. He was much stronger than what Keith pegged him to be. 

Though he still felt unsettled by the whole situation. Who had it been that did this to Lance? Why was the case dismissed so easily? Keith was the last person to ask about law enforcement procedures, but with the little knowledge he had, it didn’t add up. It angered him that he couldn’t find who it was. Only one person knew their faces, and asking him wasn’t something he could do.

The familiar brick building came into view as Keith came to a stop by the curb. He hooked his leg up and over the bike before taking the key from the ignition. Strong winds pushed against him, and he pulled the leather cover tighter around himself. 

His eyes drifted to the bottom of the stairs, the place where he had stood weeks ago making a deal. Guilt gnawed at his heart, he didn't like keeping it from Lance. He was such an open and honest person, and Keith lying to him was like a betrayal. 

With quick feet, he jogged up the steps and into the complex. He grabbed his phone and selected Lance's contact. 

"Hey, I'm downstairs."

"Oh perfect, I'll be there in a sec." Lance's sweet voice caused warmth to spread through Keith's body. It was unfamiliar to Keith, no one could make such emotion come from him. No one except Lance.

All the nerves Keith had vanished as Lance came down the stairs. He had a cream sweater paired with light blue jeans. His clean white converses contrasted well with Keith's scuffed boots, he looked so well put together.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Lance joked as he walked over to Keith. In return, the taller man rolled his eyes scoffing.

"Funny. C'mon, don't wanna be late for the movie that you requested."

That smile, it was there on his wholesome face again. Keith found that he would try to draw it out at any given moment. He led Lance out into the wintry air, and towards his bike, then turned to hand Lance his helmet. "Safety first."

"What about you?" Lance raised a brow looking concerned. Keith waved him off, climbing on confidently.

"Don't worry. Just trust me."

…

Of course, the movie had been a sappy romance. It was Lance he was talking about. He sat through the movie mildly bored, his eyes darting between the screen and the male beside him. He found it kind of cute how focused Lance was on the film. His eyes trained, and unwavering allowed Keith to stare a bit. It was still shocking to Keith how someone could look so handsome. He was a perfect height, 5’ 6. He had a thinner body sure, but it was so graceful and flexible looking it made Keith’s mouth water.

The blood painting his cheeks red slowly started to head south, causing Keith the curse under his breath. He shifted his focus back to the screen and was met with a steamy scene. For fuck’s sake, Keith thought, looking away entirely. 

“What, you’ve never watched porn? This is way less revealing.” Lance’s hot breath blew against Keith’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. 

“No- I mean yes, I have. I’m fine.” He whispered, crossing his legs and looking back at the screen. His pants had grown uncomfortably tight, despite his efforts to drown out the moans the speakers emitted. 

“I’m just teasing.” Lance chuckled softly before turning back to the screen. 

Soon enough, the movie had ended, and Keith managed to calm himself down. He felt like a middle schooler, thankful that Lance wasn’t aware. Instead, the tan boy talked his ear off about the characters and how he hoped to find love that passionate one day. 

Keith smiled listening to his commentary, he enjoyed hearing the passion in Lance’s words. Always so animated when he spoke.

The ride to Coran’s restaurant had been quick, but Keith savored it thoroughly. The tight hold Lance had on him as they sped through the streets felt comforting. His chest bubbled with pride and didn’t want it to ever end.

The bar had been a bit busier than usual, only a few tables were unoccupied. Keith walked in, nodding to Coran, and went to sit at a booth in the back. He saw Hunk shouting orders to his line cooks through the Kitchen window. Pidge had been at the bar nursing a ginger ale as she typed away on her computer.

“So, what do you think I should order?” Lance drew Keith out of his observations, his soft face masked by the high menu in his hands.

Keith blinked at the question, he enjoyed almost everything on the menu except the seafood dishes. “Hunk is the best chef I know, anything he makes is delicious,” he assured as he scanned his own plastic menu.

“You know all the workers? I thought I was special.” Lance joked, pressing a hand to his chest. 

“I’ve lived here a while, I know quite a few people.” Keith smiled reassuringly. “And I would consider you pretty special, I don’t suffer through chick flicks for just anyone.” He laughed, placing his menu on the table.

Shay, one of the hostesses, strolled over to their table two glasses of water in hand, “Hello, you two.” She smiled, pulling out her notepad and pen by habit. “Date night?”

Lance’s eyes widened, similar to the previous night, “We are just hanging out.” he assured her, waving a hand dismissing her assumptions. 

He wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t true, but Keith still felt saddened. The thought of it being a date seemed so exciting, but Lance was keeping things strictly as friends. 

“Oh my bad, well, what can I get you both?” She tucked a dark brown strand behind her ear, letting it fall in line with the rest of her shoulder-length hair. 

Lance hummed, taking one last look at his options, “I’ll take the shrimp scampi and the side of grilled vegetables.” His blue eyes then looked to Keith, waiting for his order.

“The buffalo chicken pizza, please.” He said, collecting the menus to hand to Shay. 

After she left, Lance turned to him, propping his elbows onto the table. “Wanna play 20 questions?” 

At first, Keith laughed unsurely, but then seeing the seriousness on Lance’s face, he cleared his throat. “Oh, well, okay. You can go first.”

“Hm...Favorite color?”

“Red or Gray.” 

Lance nodded, “I figured as much.”

“And yours?” Keith said, leaning back on the plush booth seat.

“Blue, 100%” He hummed with finality. His teeth nibbled on his lower lip, “What’s your family like? You never mentioned them.”

Keith sighed softly. He didn’t grieve anymore, he had come to terms with his life. Still, that didn’t make it any easier to talk about. “I grew up in Houston, Texas, with my dad. He raised me by himself when my mom left. Then when I was ten, he died; he was a fireman.” He paused, taking a breath. “After that, CPS came and placed me in a home here in Altea. I went through 6 foster homes and 5 group homes until I turned eighteen. I found my own apartment and began working, and here I am.”

Lance watched him with warm eyes. Keith expected the usual pity he received when others heard his past, but it wasn’t there. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been. You know, you’re way stronger than most people I know. Thank you for telling me all of that.” He simpered gently. 

“Ha, thank you. What made you come to New York? Are you trying to become something specific?”

“I was a dancer back home. I was hoping that once I got onto my feet, I could start searching for casting opportunities.” He beamed proudly. Keith’s face felt warmer; the more the other boy smiled. He wanted nothing more than to see him dance and move his able body. 

Keith nodded, intrigued, “You have to show me sometime.” 

The minutes passed, and soon their dishes had been placed onto the table. They ate continuing on with their game. Apparently, Lance was left-handed, he liked the ocean, and his favorite animals were sharks. The more facts about him, Keith learned, the more he looked for more. 

Dinner came to an end, and after a lot of persuasions, Keith convinced Lance to let him pay the tab. “Stop freaking out, it’s really not a big deal.”

Lance pouted, “You paid for the tickets and dinner. Next time, everything is on me.” The Cuban stood, crossing his arms as he watched Keith leave bills on the table.

“Next time, hm?” Keith stood oozing confidence and smirking towards Lance. 

Lances huffed his face turning a shade of pink, “Yeah friends hang out more than once, don’t they?” Before Keith was able to answer, Lance began to walk to the exit. He followed closely behind, chuckling to himself as they walked out into the cold night. The frosty snowflakes fell over them, causing Lance to shiver. Without a second thought, Keith slipped off his leather jacket. It really didn’t provide much warmth, but it was better than nothing. He draped it gently over Lance with a smile as he straddled his bike.

Lance looked at him like he was insane to be driving in the snow with a short sleeve. His mouth hung open, unsure of what to say. “Hurry up and get on, I’m getting kinda cold.” Keith smiled, interrupting Lance’s moment. 

Without a word, Lance sat behind him. He snaked his arms around Keith’s waist, holding on tight. “Thank you.” 

He revved the engine and took off quick, watching the once defined cars and buildings fade into a myriad of colors. The hands clasped around him tightened, it wasn’t tight enough to strain his breathing, but Keith found himself struggling to do so. His thighs tingled, feeling the press of Lance’s legs.

His decreased speed as he approached the apartment. The bike’s loud roar faded to a low buzz while Keith parked. Lance eased himself off the vehicle and stood back while the other unmounted in front of him. “I really appreciate everything tonight.” He slipped off the helmet along with Keith’s jacket returning them. 

Keith slipped the jacket back over himself and grabbed the helmet. “Of course, what are friends for?” He joked, repeating what Lance had been stating throughout the night.

Lance’s lips were as soft as imagined. Perfectly proportioned to his own, they melted together. It wasn’t forceful nor intense, but sweeter and chaste. The shorter of the two pulled back almost as quick as he came. Keith stood there, longing for more, his eyes wide with shock. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me-”

In Keith’s opinion, Lance talked a lot. He didn’t usually mind it though, always willing to listen. This wasn’t one of those times. He cupped Lance’s cheeks, gently drawing him in close again. Kissing him, his knees partially buckled with excitement feeling the soft skin under his fingertips. He pulled back slowly, his lips feeling bare without Lance’s. 

His amethyst colored irises locked onto cerulean ones. Emotions flowed between the two intensely. His frigid fingers dropped back to his side, “Still just friends?” Keith questioned lightly, attempting to break the thick tension around the two.

Lances flushed cheeks rounded as his smile grew wider. His head shook back and forth energetically before he shot up and threw his arms around Keith’s shoulders. The wind howled in the pale boy’s ears and his nose stung from the bitter air, but Keith never felt warmer.


	4. Ataraxia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> -Drugging  
> -Depictions of Non Consensual Sexual Content  
> -Rape
> 
> Read at your own risk. Italicized text is where the detailed triggering content is. The story can be read without the scene.
> 
> Safe reading,
> 
> -Magesty

…

Lance

…

_ The music blared throughout the club, the pulse of the bass going up into the stool where Lance sat. The crystal glass clutched between his hands while he looked around. There were so many people, everyone sweaty and dancing around the space.  _

_ Lance tilted his head back along with his drink, letting the amber-colored liquid flow down his throat. He winced the sour taste making his teeth ache. That still didn’t stop hand raising to call another drink his way.  _

_ Usually, people approached him at this point in the night. But for some reason, he sat alone with no one to keep him company. The female bartender that had been serving him for the past hour slid a glass towards him. Lance stopped it and left it in front of himself.  _

_ Turning around, he scanned the crowd once again. Girls danced on guys promiscuously as well as other women. Bright strobe lights fell over the dance floor setting an upbeat mood. Why was it that he was the only single in sight? _

_ With a sigh, he turned back down, downing the beverage once again. He coughed a bit; it had been oddly saltier than he remembered. He reached into his handbag, pulling out his wallet. He paid the tab and tip before standing. _

_ He was blowing through his savings like it was nothing. He never thought that finding a gig or role in a Broadway show would be this difficult. What he didn’t know was most positions were reserved explicitly for senior dancers as well as experienced youth. He had experience sure, but not with a renowned school of dance or anything. Soon he would have to find a stable income until he makes his break. _

_ He walked towards the exit, his head feeling slightly foggy. He wouldn’t consider himself a lightweight, especially when he only had four shots. His eyelids squeezed shut together, refocusing on the path ahead of him. He made it past the sea or squirming bodies and exited the club.  _

_ His body shook with the sharp winds pressing to his uncovered legs. The first step towards home, his leg grew shaky. He shook it off and pushed on. The third and fourth steps were a bit more faulty, causing Lance to lean against the concrete of a random building. His breath picked up its pace, and his eyes darted about looking at the unfocused scene before him. The cracked cement under him appeared to be getting closer until all he saw was black. _

_ … _

_ The world seemed unusually bright when Lance came around. His eyes burned as the fluorescent room lights beamed down over him. Pain shot through his arms, but as he moved, his arms stayed in place behind him. His wrists burned from the chaffing of the ropes. His body jerked forward lazily, still not fully recovered. His scream came out in a dull moan; thick duct tape lay across his mouth, masking his calls. _

_ He took in the room carefully. A tv mounted the dresser in front of the bed he sat on, the walls were bare beside the long cracks webbing out in several directions. The smell was pungent, almost like mothballs, and it sickened the tied up male.  _

_ He dug into his memories, trying to remember what brought him here, but all was blank. His legs swung over the bedside, but the moment his weight needed support, his legs gave out. The carpet smelt worse, and the mysterious stains made Lance’s stomach churn. _

_ Where was he? Who did this to him? Was he going to die? His mind ran around in circles chasing the answers to his questions. Before he could assume his own answers, a click was heard on the other side of the room.  _

_ His body froze along with his breathing, wishing himself to disappear entirely. Deep laughs were surrounding him as four shadows cast over him. He looked up his eyes wide and fearful. _

_ “You’re such a pretty doll, aren’t you?” The biggest of the four said, licking his cracked lips. He wore a black eye patch; his resemblance to a pirate was uncanny. In any other situation, Lance would laugh, but all he could muster was a quiet whimper. _

_ The shortest had a thick scruffy beard, which he combed as if he was thinking deeply. “Mm. Wonder how good he’ll feel.” Lance felt his heart stop beating in his chest entirely. Feel? What did they mean? What were they planning to do? He fought against his body’s protests and sat up, trying the crawl away. The absence of his arms proved to make his mission much harder. _

_ The third man was a lankier man with wired glasses sitting low on his nose. He moved a leg in front of Lance’s path, “He looks great on his knees.” Bending at the waist, the man grabbed a fistful of Lance’s hair, pulling him upright. “Look at that pretty face.”  _

_ His scalp stung as his hair was pulled more; all he could do was cry out against the tape. He felt himself being forced the rise from his knees and onto the bed all by his hair. The fourth man who had a dark tattoo covering half his face, finally made his presence known with his loud zipper pulling down. _

_ Immediately Lance scrambled away until the hand previously on his head shifted to his ankle, pulling his back. He flopped on his stomach and kicked with all the strength he had. One hand turned to two pinning both of his legs down. Screaming was pointless, but his throat continued, only letting out low hums.  _

_ He felt a new pair of hands on his thighs, reaching higher until they slipped under his skirt. The calloused skin gripped his ass tightly, “Fuck...” Pirate guy groaned deeply. Seconds after, the hands left trailing over his shirt. He hooked his fingers around the leather bottoms and yanked them down.  _

_ Lance’s legs struggled more desperate to break free. He found it increasingly harder to breathe as he twisted around. He turned his head looking for anything to use and aid an escape, but the nylon of his tights ripping drew back his attention. The weight on his legs grew, it dawned on Lance that the one-eyed man had gone to straddle his thighs. All his movements waist down were suppressed; his chances of escape quickly lowered. _

_ Something prodded at his thigh cousin Lance to flinch. He whined, realizing it was a particularly hardened part of the one eyed man pinning him down. His eyes widened when he felt a finger hook through the middle fabric of his underwear, knowing what was coming next. He screamed louder, his voice not carrying very far, but he continued holding out hope someone would wake him from this horrible nightmare.  _

_ The head of the man’s cock pressed against his tight hole. He cried out at the burn of stretching skin radiated through his lower body. The thick member tore through him unforgivably, the man hips pinning him lower into the mattress. Lance’s eyes filled with salty tears, from both the physical and emotional torture. _

_ The man snapped his hips forward furiously, sticking with a fast, sloppy pace. Every time his ass felt the slap of the man’s thighs, he let out a whimper. He felt like he was being split in two, his insides begging for mercy.  _

_ “Do you like that?” His hot, acrid breath wafted beside Lance’s face, the man bending over him for better access. Lance shook his head as best as could, the rocking of his body getting in his way. _

_ The body above him let out a deep guttural moan, and quickly following Lance felt a warmth build inside him. His body trembled, realizing the man releasing inside; the flow was non-stop, soon leaking out and down his inner thigh. _

_ A line behind Lance had been formed as the next guy knelt behind him. Without warning, he felt the plunging thrust of his length, filling the sobbing boy. This time it reached further into him, causing more throbbing within him.  _

_ “What a dirty whore.” The shorter man he identified through his voice, sneered as he drew back his hips slowly. The friction was unbearable; the skin on skin contacts felt like fire burning him. The man pushed forward quickly, bottoming out. His left hand encircled Lance’s throat, and the other stationed itself at his hip.  _

_ Every thrust was accompanied by a tightened grip around his side and neck, inflicting more pain on the Cuban’s body. He prayed silently in his head for something, anything to stop this. Unfortunately, nothing came, and the torment continued. _

_ His eyes slipped closed, his mind going blank. He felt himself detach from the world around him, his body pressed deep into the mattress, and any sign of struggle dissipated.  _

_ Minutes felt like hours, and the hours felt like years. They cycled through him through the late hours of the night. Sometime later, his mouth felt a sharp sting; the skinny man had taken off the tape. Afterward, he adjusted himself in front of Lance’s face and tugged his jaw down.  _

_The taste of his cock was sour and sickening; he gagged with every blow to the back of his throat._ _Salty tears poured down his face combined with the saliva dripping from his mouth. He thought the worst had come and gone, and it would soon be over, though he was much mistaken. A forceful grip on his hips hoisted him up to be on his knees._

_ He felt humiliated and exposed his face hot with shame. “Can you take two of us?” the fourth man with the tattoo sneered before bucking his hips forward. The pain had mostly subsided, replaced with numbness from his lower back down to his toes. Still, more tears surfaced, and a low hum from Lance’s throat sounded.  _

_ Black spots began to cloud his vision, his head feeling lighter every passing second. The lack of air due to the obstruction in his throat took its toll on the poor boy. His knees shook feverishly, his weight becoming too much to support.  _

_ “How can you dress up like that and not expect this?” The man with the eye patch questioned.  _

_ Lance’s world darkened, all his thoughts running away. The exhaustion taking over left him limp on the firm mattress. Nothing could end this abuse, nothing but sleep. _

…

His blue eyes snapped open with fear, chest rising and falling with labored breaths. Lance sat up slowly, surveying his surroundings, a new habit he developed from his trauma. He saw the grey painted walls of his bedroom, the white dressers placed against his walls, the navy blue comforters encapsulating his body. He was home and safe in bed. 

The nightmares were a routine thing for him now. Usually, he would close his eyes and go back to sleep, but his thoughts raced about making it impossible.

He turned on his side and reached for his cell phone placed on the nightstand beside his bed. Several notifications littered his screen all from various clothing store apps, or new shipments for beauty products. He unlocked the device and was met with his messages. 

Keith Kogane was listed first. He smiled softly, thinking of their ‘hangout’ that night. Sure he had a major attraction to the dark-haired guy, but the thought of him liking Lance back was unreal. The past month had been the best Lance had here in the states. He got to know Keith little by little, and the more he discovered, the more he crushed harder. 

Of course, kissing Keith was never part of the plan. He blushed, covering his face with his hands and rolled over on his bed, squealing with joy. He was a fantastic kisser as well. The delivery was on point, not too fast or too slow. It wasn’t too steamy either, just innocent and comfortable. He appreciated the effort Keith made to make him comfortable, regardless if he initiated it. 

He held the phone in his hands tightly and sighed before he heard a dull ringing. He brought his phone to his face, confused. His eyes widened, realizing he had called Keith and quickly declined the call. He let out a breath before tossing the phone into his lap.

Lance had done his fair share of ‘you up?’ texts and calls, but knowing Keith was on the other end of the call, he wanted to die. What if he thinks I’m thirsty? Did I wake him up? Will he be weirded out? Lance groaned shamefully as he laid back with a flop.

He felt a vibration on the top of his thighs, prompting him to sit up. His anxiety heightened, seeing Keith’s contact and below it an accept or decline option. 

“Hello?” Lance answered as casually as possible, acting as if it wasn’t three a.m. 

“Hey, you called. You alright?” Keith questioned his voice, laced with sleep. Keith had a great voice; it was deep but not overwhelmingly so. It had a slight raspiness to it as well the melted Lance’s heart. But this had a much more significant effect on him. It was husky and sultry, and all Lance wanted was to kiss him.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I accidentally called you. No biggie, you can go back to sleep now.” Lance explained quickly. He felt bad enough for calling; he didn’t want to waste his time either.

He heard shuffling on the other side of the call, “I have a feeling you’re lying. You aren’t very good at it, by the way.” Keith chuckled softly, “Couldn’t sleep?”

“How’d you know?”

“You aren’t the only one who gets nightmares, want to talk about it?” Lance stiffened, was he ready to talk about it? He wasn’t sure. Keeping it all bottled up was exhausting, but reliving it was excruciating. 

“It was about that night.” Lance paused, “I was just reliving it. The smells, the sounds, the pain was all so vivid.” He felt himself tearing up, but he pushed through it. “I don’t know what I did to deserve that.”

“Listen to me, nothing that happened to you that night was your fault, and you didn’t deserve it at all.” He comforted. “You deserve justice, Lance.”

Lance sniffed; he had felt disappointed when his case was closed. Regardless of the lack of evidence, he wished there had been an investigation at the least. “If only they let me give a description, maybe it would’ve helped you know?”

“It absolutely would’ve.” Keith’s voice raised with certainty. The tan boy smiled softly; he felt less alone with Keith’s support. He had been his only confidant, and he was remarkably comforting and reliable.

“Right! Like one of them had this eye patch, it’s funny he looked identical to a pirate. And this other one had this weird tattoo covering half his face; it almost looked like a tribal pattern.” He said, recalling their characteristics as they popped into his mind. “Oh, then there was this tall guy, real skinny, he had these gold glasses that sat on the tip of his nose. They looked way too big for him to be honest. The last one didn’t look out of the blue, just really short and had a long beard.”

It was hard thinking of their faces; there wasn’t a clear picture of how any of them looked really. Lance hadn’t had a good line of sight on them except for glances through the night. It had occurred to him, what if he saw them in public. Would he know it was them? What would happen? Would he stop and accuse them or keep walking as if nothing happened? It was scary to think that he pictured himself doing the latter of the choices.

…

Keith

…

The pen danced across the page as Keith wrote. He pinched the phone to his shoulder as Lance recalled the men from that night. He didn’t know what possessed him to write all of this down, but it seemed smart to do so. 

“They do sound distinctive. And what happened beforehand? Where were you?” He asked as casually as possible. The last thing he wanted was Lance to think he was interrogating him.

“I was at The Carpo Club, where I had a few drinks, and I left. I guess the drinks were too strong, and I collapsed as I was walking home. The next thing that happened was me waking up in a hotel room.” Lance told him, his voice wavered as he spoke but continued anyway, “Fyi, I do not recommend having more than three shots of Redemption Rye. It starts tasting salty, and it’s gross.”

Keith wrote the club’s name, before writing a small note to himself, ‘Redemption Red- four shots.’ The police were never on the raven-haired male’s side, and now they weren’t on Lance’s side either, now that made him even angrier.

He closed his notepad and placed it beside him. If the legal authorities wouldn’t help, Keith would take matters into his own hands. He would get Lance his justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Lancey...
> 
> Lmk what you guys think, I do try and reply to all comments.
> 
> Stay tuned (;


	5. Chilling Pirouettes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loving the support!
> 
> Notify me of any mistakes please!

…  
Keith  
…

Everyone sat around the large meeting table, all eyes on Coran. Keith crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, he had long since tuned out Allura’s monotonous tone; instead, he opted to think of Lance. It had been two days since their date, and he hadn’t been able to catch some free time to see him. Keith felt antsier every minute that passed without hearing his heavenly laugh. He had called him quite a few times in the past days to either listen to his voice or check up on his well-being. 

Coran cleared his throat, harshly interrupting Keith’s daydreaming, “Keith are you in agreement?” 

Keith blinked and looked around him, confused. Pidge shook her head while Shiro stared at him expectantly. “I’m sorry. I missed that.”

“While you were off in la-la land, we were discussing branching out a bit more. Recruiting more inner circle members. Your thoughts?” Allura chimed in and crossed her arms.

Keith sat up and leaned onto the table with his elbows, “I don’t see why not. We just have to be wise about who can trust. Not every money hungry kid out here is smart and tight-lipped like us.”

“Pidge and I have been discussing bringing in Matt, he wouldn’t be opposed to it I don’t think, and he can be a great brain to have on the team.” Shiro spoke up. Keith thought about this, Matt didn’t have a reason to backstab any of them. He was Pidge’s brother and Shiro’s boyfriend.

“Alright.” Keith nodded in a final agreement. He saw everyone begin to grab their belongings to end for tonight and stood up abruptly. “Wait. I have a favor for you all.”

Hunk tilted his head a bit, and everyone else stopped in their tracks, “What’s up, Keith?”

“You guys know Lance, the new bartender Coran hired?” 

Pidge scoffed, “No need to sugar coat. You mean your boyfriend?” Heat rose to Keith’s cheeks, and he rolled his eyes. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a folded slip of paper.

“Fuck off.” He sighed and looked down at the note, “I have four guys I need help tracking,” he looked back at them and inhaled, “and I want them taken care of.”

Coran walked over cautiously, “What do they have to do with Lance?”

“They hurt him bad. Drugged him and assaulted him.” Keith frowned, anger lacing his words. “All of them look to be late forties early fifties, one of them has an eyepatch, and another has a tribal tattoo covering half of his face. The other two aren’t so distinctive, there is a tall skinny guy with skinny wire glasses, and a short one with a really full beard.”

Pidge took the note inspecting it with critical eyes, “Text me the date this happened, location, and any other details you can. I’ll tap into traffic cams and anything else I can get my hands on.” 

Shiro nodded and tapped Pidge’s arm, “You find any names, send one my way. I’d like to get some shots in.”

“Thanks, guys.” Keith thanked, shrugging on his typical black leather jacket. Coran then closed the meeting with a nod of agreement, and everyone went their separate ways to end the night. 

Keith found himself walking along the sidewalk, drowning in nostalgia. The night he met, Lance felt so similar to this one. The wind whined in his ears and stung the tip of his nose. The snow fell lazily onto the cement leading his way home. It also happened to lead the way to The Carpo Club.

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets seeking warmth and trudged on toward the club. It was a rule to never drive to meetings or in city deals, it was too high risk to be followed by undercover cops or rival gang members. Walking gave the option of misdirecting any followers and handling them accordingly.

The club was a bright contrast to the dim street around him. Purple neon lights poured from the windows and doorway, the vibe already feeling menacing. The bouncers held that same vibe, they scowled at Keith as soon as he stepped forward flashing I.D. They stood to the side granting access to him, and as Keith walked, their eyes stayed glued to his back. 

He felt uncomfortable already and kept his eyes open for the four men. Loud music bounced off the walls and sent chills through him as he walked toward the bar. The people here looked to be affiliated with the Galra, men, and women; both were inked with their signature cursive V. 

The bartender had been no different, his forearm bore a thick-lined V. It stood for “Vrepit Sa” the Galra’s motto. Keith tied back his hair, thankful that his identity was concealed from everybody in the space. If they knew he wouldn’t be breathing much longer. 

“Can I get a Redemption Red?” Keith called out, sliding a twenty to the bartender, mixing a drink in front of him. He watched as the man moved, keeping an eye on all of his movements. He saw when the glass was taken from the counter, wiped with a cloth, then filled with a dark fluid. Keith caught it as it slid across the bartop and into his palm. 

The first three shots down, and it was a reasonably bitter drink, not one he’d order again. His head was still clear, and he was hardly feeling an impact. Unless Lance had a terrible tolerance for alcohol, there was no way he was blackout drunk off four of these. He raised his hand, calling for another shot and watched again the strict routine the bartender followed religiously before serving him again. Grab a glass, wipe, and pour. Keith brought the drink to his lips cautiously and drank it. The alcohol sat on his tongue, being savored. There had been no spike in saltiness, no change at all. It was just as bitter he remembered from minutes ago. 

The raven-haired man stood and placed another bill on the counter before heading off. He exited the club and pulled his cell out, scrolling for Pidges contact. He knew now that the salty flavoring Lance had tasted was GHB. It was one of the most commonly used date rape drugs. 

“Hey, try checking who deals out GHB in the area. There aren’t many who carry it, so it should narrow down the search.” Keith babbled into his receiver before hanging up, not waiting for an answer.

…

The plastic bag dug into Keith’s fingers as they were weighed down by the chocolates and drinks he had bought for Lance. He climbed the steps leading to the Cuban’s home, hoping it wasn’t too sudden for him to show up. Finally, he reached the top and knocked, waiting for an answer.

Shuffling could be heard behind the door and a shocked gasp, followed by the unlocking of the door. Lance appeared through the doorway arms around himself as he sported a blue robe and matching slippers. His face had been covered with a thick paste, Keith assumed to be some sort of beauty product he wasn’t familiar with. “Keith? What are you doing here?” 

Keith blinked and held up the bags full of junk food, “I was busy the past few days, so I wanted to see you. Is that alright?” he asked shyly. Dating wasn’t one of the things Keith would say he had mastered in his adolescent years. Throughout high school, he was a lone wolf, not really one for socializing. And as an adult, he had his sole focus on dealing, not another human.

“Yeah, of course, come on in.” Lance smiled happily and stepped back. “You should’ve texted, I would’ve waited to start my skin routine.” He laughed and waved a gesturing hand at his face. 

Keith breathed a laugh and placed the bags on the small table he noticed to the left of the door. The apartment was small and homey, it had Lance written all over it. Blue walls, white couches, and furniture, a bright kitchen, some plants here and there. “Your place is really nice.” He turned his attention back to the bag and smiled, “I brought some of the candies you told me you liked, M&m’s, Twix, and Snickers, right?”

“Thank you, and yeah, that was nice of you to remember.” He helped put the two bottles of tea into the fridge, “Your favorites are Kitkats, York Patties, and skittles, right?” 

“Correct.” He smiled and followed him with the candy towards the kitchen. “So you said you were doing your skincare routine? What’s this on your face?”

Lance raised an eyebrow, “A face mask duh.” Keith’s face remained unchanging, and the tan boy sighed, “Follow me, you’re about to wear your first face mask.” Lance shuffled over to the bathroom at the end of his apartment. Keith followed willingly, as long as he was with Lance, he didn’t care where he was leading him. 

The green goo was slathered across his face, thickly. Keith scrunched his nose, adjusting to this foreign substance. He didn’t know how someone could sit with this on for fifteen minutes, it was already feeling stiff.

“Okay now what?” Keith asked as he stood from the toilet seat. He watched the others cleaning his supplies and smiled warmly at the question.

“Now we wait.” He walked to the kitchen, grabbed a bag of candy for them both, and then went over to the couch. “Any pass time activities you have in mind?”

“Well, If I remember correctly, I was told that you’d dance for me.” Keith shrugged as he accepted his skittles. He tore open the package and watched as Lance looked at him incredulously. 

“Right now?” Lance asked as he looked around his apartment. If he moved his coffee table and pushed back his couch, he’d have enough space. “Alright sure, let me change really quickly.”

Keith hadn’t expected him to agree so quickly, he thought a little persuasion would be needed at least. He poured himself a handful of the rainbow candies and tossed them into his mouth. The area looked a bit crowded, so he pushed the furniture out of the way, giving Lance some room. “I made you a dance floor!” He called out to Lance with an uneven smirk.

Said male, approached the living room in a white tank top and black spandex shorts. It was typical dancer attire, but to Keith, he’d never seen someone’s body look so appealing in such a basic outfit. He had also rinsed his mask off and instead showed his warm skin. “Mind turning on that radio beside you?” Keith looked to his left and saw a small radio on a side table. He cranked the dial a few times until he found a strong signal.

‘Next on 109.4, Trouble by Halsey.’ The radio host informed gently, and Keith looked to Lance, who simply nodded. He then stood in his starting position as the music began.

His dark eyes followed every twist and turn of the man’s body. The dips and arches his back made were as if the song took control of him. He felt the weight behind the dance, it told a story. A dark night in Lance’s life put into a series of spins and leaps. It’s intensity left Keith on the edge of his seat, edging closer to get a better look.

His heart pounded as he focused on the lean muscled flexing and stretching taught under Lance’s warm caramel skin. His beautiful eyes closed, getting lost in the music as he expressed his thoughts through his dance. His soft lips a fraction of a centimeter apart, emitting shallow breaths from the exertion. Everything Keith saw was perfection, whether it be Lance or his dancing. Never did he think he could be so moved in the matter of a few moments.

Lance closed his dance kneeling on the floor in a ball. His face drawn into a pained expression, and his shoulders bobbed with his quickened breath. He looked so burdened sitting there alone, so Keith dropped down beside him. “That was breathtaking.” 

His blue eyes looked up at him with a million emotions flowing through him. Lance blushed softly under Keith’s gaze, his voice caught in his throat, looking for the right words to say. Instead, a pair of pale hands reached forward and pulled him into a warm embrace. In response, Lance held him back, “Thank you.”

Keith nodded and pulled back after a moment. “Of course.” He helped him stand and smiled, “Now, can I take this stuff off my face?” He joked, trying to keep the mood light.

‘Now for tonight’s weather forecast in Altea, New York. Over the next several days, there will be heavy snowfall due to back to back storms, with a high chance of blizzard formations. Professionals suggest staying indoors as these storms pass by.’ The weatherman declared over the buzz of the radio. 

Keith stepped over to a window and was greeted with white. The snowfall had escalated over the past half hour since he had arrived. “I think I’ll have to leave sooner than I thought If I want to make it home without frostbite.”

“What? No, you heard him. It’s best to stay indoors and wait for this to pass, plus I don’t want you walking out in that.” Lance crossed his arms, concern plastered over his face. “I have plenty of food here to last us a while, and my bed is big enough for the two of us.” As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes widened significantly. “I-I mean only if you’re comfortable! I just thought it would be rude to kick you to the couch.”

Keith chuckled at his embarrassment, “Lance relax, I don’t mind taking the couch.” He noticed the slight disappointment in Lance’s eye and smiled, “Unless you’d prefer me to sleep in the bed too.” 

Lance’s brightened expression was answer enough, along with the warm kiss he pressed to Keith’s lips. Keith’s arm snaked around the other boy’s waist as he kissed him back. The kiss ended far too quick as Lance pulled back, stifling a laugh.

“I think I tasted a bit of face mask on your lips.” He then grabbed Keith’s hand and dragged him to the bathroom. “If I’m going to kiss you, I want to taste you, not chemicals.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleepoverssssss :00


End file.
